Where Love Has Gone (23 page)

She stared at the parchment, which curled
back into a tight roll as soon as her fingers released one end of
it. In her memory she heard Desmond speak of pigeons that carried
messages. They had been sitting in the great hall and Desmond had
asked her about Lady Benedicta’s dovecot.

“This must be the secret Aglise was hiding,”
she murmured. “It’s also the proof Desmond needs.”

Working as quickly as she could, Elaine
pulled everything out of Aglise’s clothing chest and unfolded each
garment, searching hems, decorations, and linings carefully. She
even looked inside her sister’s best shoes. No other parchment and
no additional secrets lay hidden there. Nor did she find any
memento of Aglise’s liaison with Lord Bertrand. She repacked the
chest and locked it.

She was left with the question of what to do
with the parchment until she could meet Desmond in private and give
it to him. She improvised, pushing the rerolled tube into a little
purse she had kept since she was a child, because her father had
given it to her. She pulled the purse strings tight and tied them
around her waist under her gown. After she wrapped her belt at her
waist, she was sure the bulge was invisible to anyone who didn’t
know the purse was there.

Then she hurried to the great hall in search
of Desmond.

Desmond wasn’t in the great hall, nor did
Elaine see Cadwallon. She stopped a man-at-arms to ask if he knew
where they were.

“They’re both with Lord Bertrand,” said the
man-at-arms. “So is Flamig. They’ve all been together in the lord’s
chamber for hours.”

“Thank you.” Elaine wasn’t going to interrupt
any conference that included Lord Bertrand. She didn’t want to see
him again.

But she did want to see Lady Benedicta.
Elaine had unfinished business with her foster mother and if she
was going to learn as much as possible about Aglise’s death before
leaving Jersey, she’d better talk to her at once. Then, when she
reached Caen, she’d tell Royce all she knew on the subject.

“If anyone comes looking for me,” she said to
a passing maidservant, “I’ll be in the linen room. And if Sir
Desmond sends his squire to collect my clothing chest, it’s packed
and ready in my room. Lady Aglise’s chest is to go, too.”

Lady Benedicta was standing by the linen room
window, gazing out at the mist and rain. She had apparently
finished folding and counting the fresh laundry, for the room was
perfectly neat. When Elaine entered, she turned and raised her
eyebrows in surprise.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be
gone by now.”

“I’ve not heard when we are to leave,” Elaine
said, “except that it will be today. Though, if the weather doesn’t
clear, we may have to postpone our departure.”

“I think not,” Lady Benedicta snapped. “One
way or another, you will leave Jersey before this day is over.”

“Before I go,” Elaine said, refusing to be
intimidated by the cold, steady gaze of the older woman, “I want to
know the truth.”

“What truth would that be?”

“You killed my sister.”

“Did I?” Lady Benedicta’s upper lip curled
slightly.

“Don’t deny it. Who else had any reason to
wish Aglise harm?”

“Quite a few people, I should think. Former
lovers, outraged wives, girls from whom she stole betrothed
husbands.”

“You’re lying!” Elaine took a purposeful step
toward the woman she regarded as her implacable opponent. “The only
lover Aglise ever had was Lord Bertrand, and he seduced her.”

“Do you think so? I disagree. But, perhaps I
knew your sister better than you did.”

“I refuse to believe anything you say against
Aglise.”

“If you will not believe me, then why are you
here asking questions?”

“Because I want to know exactly how you
killed her.”

“What a gruesome request.”

“You used herbs, didn’t you?”

“Is that what you think?”

“I know you did. I want to know which
herbs.”

“Why?” Lady Benedicta contrived to look
startled. “Oh, Elaine, is there someone whom you want to kill?”

“I want to know what you gave my sister, so
I’ll know if she suffered.” Elaine was praying no suffering at all
had been involved, though she feared that wasn’t the case. Whatever
the truth was, she had to learn it.

“Ah, I see.” Lady Benedicta smiled, the
faint, cool curve of her mouth holding no humor or kindness. “You
want me to say I dosed her with poppy syrup, so she fell asleep and
died peacefully.”

“I also want to know how you administered the
fatal dose.”

“I find your interest most unnatural.” Lady
Benedicta shrugged. “Very well, then, I’ll tell you. I did use
poppy syrup, and monkshood, and one or two other herbs I would
prefer not to mention. I sweetened the potion with honey and dipped
some little cakes into it. I poured the leftover potion into a
small pitcher of wine. Then I left the plate of cakes and the wine
in the solar for Aglise to find, at a time when I knew no one else
would be there. I was certain she would devour all of the cakes and
lick her fingers, too, and wash the cakes down with the wine. She
always was much too fond of sweets and of honeyed wine.

“You, on the other hand, do not care for
sweet foods,” Lady Benedicta said, moving forward with a swift,
gliding step. “I will have to find some other method to use on you.
Unfortunately, it won’t be quite as pleasant as the mixture I gave
to Aglise.”

“You wouldn’t dare harm me,” Elaine told her.
“Not now, when everyone knows you killed my sister.”

“You don’t know me any better than you knew
Aglise. There’s precious little I wouldn’t dare – and have dared.
And will dare again.”

Lady Benedicta reached toward Elaine to catch
her arm. Elaine stepped aside, quickly moving to the open door. And
there stood Desmond, fists on hips, watching the two women.

“Elaine, you were unbelievably foolish to
come here,” Desmond said.

“No, I wasn’t,” Elaine contradicted. “She
admits to killing Aglise. I can repeat to Royce and to King Henry
every word she just said, and I will swear in court to her
confession.”

“I never confessed anything,” Lady Benedicta
said. “Sir Desmond, this poor girl has taken leave of her wits from
grief.”

“She told me how she did it,” Elaine
insisted. Desmond would believe her over Lady Benedicta. He
must
believe her.

“The important thing, as Cadwallon and I have
been explaining to Lord Bertrand,” Desmond said, “is not how she
did it, but why she did it.”

“So.” Lady Benedicta met Desmond’s
challenging gaze without flinching, though she had gone a little
pale. After a long moment she looked around the linen room, at the
shelves of precisely arranged sheets and towels, and neatly folded
quilts, and rolled bandages made from the remnants of sheets that
had grown too decrepit to be used for beds any longer, but were
still strong enough to be put to their final service of binding up
the wounds made by accident or by the mishaps of weapons practice –
or caused by enemy attack.

“No one who comes after me will ever keep
this room as clean and tidy as I have done,” Lady Benedicta
said.

With that, she brushed by Desmond and would
have walked out of the room if he hadn’t stepped in front of her
and blocked the doorway.

“Where are you going?” Desmond asked in a
terrible voice.

“Not far, I assure you. Where can I go, Sir
Desmond? On this small island, where could I possibly flee to
escape the justice you are determined to bring down on me?”

“All the same, I prefer you to remain within
my sight.”

“I have a desire to confess to Father Otwin
and for that, you must allow me holy privacy. Seek me in the chapel
in one hour. Grant me that long to repent of my sins.”

“One hour. No more.” Desmond stepped
aside.

“You can’t let her go,” Elaine cried. “Who
knows what she’ll do?”

“She can’t do much,” Desmond said. “I have
set a close watch on her. Cadwallon, Ewan, Flamig, even Jean; each
of them will keep her in view, and she likely won’t guess she’s
being followed and observed.”

“I hope you’re right. She’s very clever.”
Elaine launched into a recitation of everything Lady Benedicta had
told her. “And there’s more,” she said, ready to reveal how she had
found the parchment with its coded message.

“Listen to me.” Desmond caught her by the
shoulders, jerking her forward, the sudden movement effectively
stopping her next words. “When I said you were foolish to come here
I wasn’t teasing. Lady Benedicta is dangerous. A woman who is
involved in treason won’t hesitate to commit murder to protect
herself. She killed your sister and she’ll have no compunction
about doing the same to you.”

“I agree. Why isn’t she in chains?” Elaine
asked. “In my opinon she should have been consigned to the dungeon
days ago – no, weeks ago.”

“I understand your feelings. Cadwallon and I
have been making arrangements with Lord Bertrand for his lady’s
immediate future.”

“He’s as guilty as she is! He seduced
Aglise.”

“Hush, my dear girl. Will you be quiet for a
moment?”

Desmond took the most obvious way to silence
her. He set his mouth over hers and kissed her with a searing heat
that drove all thoughts of treason and hidden parchments out of her
mind. Elaine couldn’t fight him. She had been so glad to see him at
the linen room doorway just when she needed reinforcements against
Lady Benedicta that she felt a little weak from relief even before
he embraced her. By the time he let her go she wasn’t sure she
could stand without his aid. To her amazement and confusion,
Desmond broke the sweet contact between them and returned to the
issue at hand.

“Lord Bertrand has given his word that he
will travel to Caen with us. He will order Lady Benedicta to
accompany him,” Desmond said.

“You cannot trust him, and Lady Benedicta
obeys no one.”

“She has no choice. We know for certain that
she has been carrying on a secret correspondence, using those
pigeons of hers.”

“Desmond, that reminds me. I found – who in
the world is shouting?” Elaine exclaimed.

“It sounds as though it’s coming from the
solar. Stay here.” Desmond rushed out the door.

Elaine followed him.

“I said, stay in the linen room,” he called
back to her.

“You have no right to command me,” she told
him.

“Have I not?” He halted so suddenly that she
bumped into him.

“The noise we heard is most likely something
to do with Lady Benedicta,” she said. “Will you stand here arguing
with me, or shall we go and see what has happened?”

“Did your father ever beat you for
disobedience?”

“Never.” She couldn’t help smiling. “I was a
very good daughter.”

The look he gave her was an argument in
itself, but he did not try to keep her from the solar.

They found Ewan holding a fuming Lady
Benedicta with one arm twisted behind her back. Lord Bertrand was
swearing profusely, though whether at his wife or at Ewan, Elaine
could not immediately tell. Cadwallon looked upon the scene in calm
silence.

“I gave the lady permission to visit the
chapel,” Desmond said.

“She chose to visit the dovecot instead,”
Cadwallon informed him. “She didn’t have time to send a message.
I’m guessing her aim was to release all of her messenger pigeons,
in hope that when her correspondent found the entire flock arriving
home at once, he – or she – would know Lady Benedicta has been
found out.”

“I’m sure you are right.” Desmond sent an
approving glance in Cadwallon’s direction. Then he moved to face
Lady Benedicta. “You broke your word to me.”

“I never gave you my word.” Lady Benedicta’s
chin rose. “Tell your squire to unhand me at once.”

“Since you insist on precise wording, my
lady, I must inform you that Ewan is not my squire. He belongs to
Lord Cadwallon. Therefore, precisely speaking, I cannot command
him.”

“Considering what you just tried to do,”
Cadwallon told her in his cool and lazy drawl, “I don’t think we’d
be wise to set you free. Hold on to her, Ewan.”

“Aye, my lord.” The squire responded with a
grimace that told Elaine he didn’t like restraining a noblewoman by
brute strength, but he’d do it anyway.

Lord Bertrand stopped his muttered swearing
and looked around the solar, his gaze pausing at the stairs that
led directly to the great hall.

“Can’t we find a more private place?” he
asked Desmond. “Haven’t I been humiliated enough? Must you continue
these embarrassing disruptions where any man-at-arms or servant can
see and hear us?”

“Disruptions?” Elaine cried. “Is that all
your wife’s crimes are to you? Wretched man, at least you are
alive. Unlike my sister.”

“Lord Bertrand does have a point,” Cadwallon
said to Desmond. “Flamig will have more than enough gossip and
speculation to contend with after we are gone. Why don’t we adjourn
to Lady Benedicta’s room?”

“I will not admit you ruffians to my private
chamber!” the lady cried.

“Why not?” asked Ewan. “Are you hiding
something in there? Or someone?” He pulled her arm a little
tighter, as if to impress her present, uncertain situation on
her.

“She’s much too clever to be careless,”
Desmond said. “She’d never leave evidence lying where it might be
found. The harnesses she uses on her birds weren’t hidden in her
room, but in the dovecot, where one loyal servant cleans under her
direct supervision. All of the important information is kept in her
mind. Isn’t that so, my lady?”

Not all of her information
, Elaine
wanted to say, thinking of the parchment fastened at her waist. But
this did not seem like a good time to tell Desmond about her
discovery. She didn’t think he’d want Lady Benedicta to know she
had found the parchment. Again she postponed what she was sure
would prove to be serious evidence against the woman.